"Where are you from originally?" the cabbie asked, in the way that cabbies do.

"Well, um, actually Chicago...sort of. I was born here, but my parents moved away when I was little."

"Oh, so this is home then!"

"Mmmm....nah, Kansas is home."

And it is, without a doubt. It feels like I should feel a connection to this city--the city of my birth, after all--but I can't ever seem to get quiet enough to figure it out. Or see enough of the sky at once. Or...well, fellow non-city dwellers will understand.

Nonetheless, it is a very nice city. All I had to do was barely look puzzled on the train for someone to jump to my assistance. I love that about the midwest--we're helpers. And then there's the city itself. The mish-mosh of weird and dirty and beautiful and mundane is like a grown-up sensory stimulation activity.

I had most of yesterday to walk around. The last time I was here was in 1999, so I hadn't ever seen the famous "bean" in Millennium Park. I understand why people flock there with their cameras out--such an interesting focal point to see the city through.

Then I met an old friend and her mom for lunch, and we did a 30-minute tour of the Art Institute before I had to leave them for the start of my conference. It was nice to catch up with them.